


It All Comes Tumbling Down

by MonPetitTresor



Series: Family Don't End With Blood [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Dean's POV, Introspection, Leviathan Castiel, Leviathans, Sam's wall, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 19:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12305682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonPetitTresor/pseuds/MonPetitTresor
Summary: The Leviathan are free, Castiel is gone, and Sam's broken. This is a brief glimpse of Dean's thoughts as he looks down at his brother and wonders where he went wrong. When he lost the sweet little brother he'd once known.





	It All Comes Tumbling Down

Why was it that when things went wrong for the Winchesters, it always had to go _spectacularly_ wrong?

Rubbing his aching leg just above his cast, Dean stared down at the sleeping figure of his little brother and tried to contain the worry and anger he felt.

It felt like they’d just barely managed to completely wrap up their last apocalyptic event and now they were smack dab in the middle of another one. One which, yet again, put Sam at risk. Only this time, it’d taken someone else, too. It’d taken Cas.

Things had been going all right! They hadn’t been _perfect_ , but since when had anything in their life ever gone perfectly? Dean was more than willing to settle for ‘all right’. He and Sammy were out on the road again, they were together, and Sam wasn’t the damn Terminator anymore. They had his brother’s soul back and all those memories were being held back by the ‘Great Wall of Sam’ that Death had put in his head. Sammy was _safe_. After thinking his brother dead for so long, and then having to deal with soulless Sam after that, it’d been the most amazing thing in the world to look across the car and see his giant little brother smiling at him, or teasing him, or rolling his eyes at something Dean said.

Of course it couldn’t last.

Dean had to close his eyes as the memories of it all pushed forward. Finding out that Cas was working with freaking _Crowley_ , Cas coming and _ripping down Sam’s wall_ , the door to Purgatory opening, the mass destruction that Cas had caused, and now…

He had to fight not to throw up as he remembered watching the angel walk out into that lake and not come back. It hadn’t been their angel anymore at that point. Just the Leviathan inside.

Now they had Leviathan everywhere, and no damn clue what to do about them. They were stuck here hiding out in this stupid cabin while Dean’s busted leg healed, and Sam… recovered. Or, at least, as much as he could. Was there any recovering from this? Dean knew what it was like to deal with Hell memories. He had forty years’ worth inside of his head. But Sam – Sam had who-knew-how-long in there. All that time downstairs with the Devil.

Not even in sleep did Sam look peaceful. When was the last time he had? The fact that Dean had to stop and think about it was like a fist to the gut. He couldn’t remember the last time that Sammy had looked peaceful about much of anything. There were little moments here and there that his brain drug up; tiny little glimpses of the kid that he’d once been peeking through the hardened vet he’d grown up to be.

Vet. It was a word that he’d heard someone use to describe the both of them, once, that seemed oddly fitting.

They’d been at a bar, doing nothing more than enjoying a night out, and a pretty blond had been flirting heavily with Dean. He hadn’t been in the mood for it that night, though. He’d just wanted to enjoy the night with his brother once Sammy got back from the bathroom. Those kinds of moments were so rare he’d wanted to take it while he could. Especially back then when Sam was still doing good – before everything had gotten so messed up, before the damn Wall was broken, before Cas…

The bartender had recognized Dean’s discomfort and engaged him in conversation, chasing away the girl. Then the guy had grinned at him, even more so at Dean’s relieved ‘Thanks’, and had started to casually chat with Dean. At one point, he’d asked him when he’d gotten back. At Dean’s confused “What?” the guy had said “I recognize soldiers when I see them. You and that other guy, you got the look of guys just home from war. How long you been back?”

At the time, the words had resonated with Dean, quite a bit. He and Sam had been to war in multiple senses. They’d just been wars most of the world weren’t even aware they were in. As he’d stared at the bartender, Dean had answered far more honestly than he’d intended, saying “We’re not” and the guy had nodded like that made perfect sense to him.

Those words stuck with Dean. They seemed so fitting now as he stared down at his baby brother, broken and scarred by the wars the world didn’t know about, and yet still so damn strong. Still _fighting_. It made him long for the peaceful moments. For the glimpses of the kid he knew still lived somewhere in there. They only happened sometimes now. When he and Dean got to relax at the car with some beers, random moments where they’d be working and Sam would look up with that thrill of new information on his face…

…when he was talking with Stark.

It galled Dean to think just how much of that sweet kid Sam used to be that showed up while he was around Stark. The ‘brother’ that Sam had adopted. Dean – he didn’t hate Stark the way he’d used to. He was grudgingly accepting the man’s presence in Sam’s life. “Family don’t end with blood” Bobby had told them before, and it was true. Family was who you made it. But, Stark? _Really_? He was flashy, hot-headed, arrogant, and an all around dick. He seemed to think he had _rights_ in Sam’s life.

Then again – didn’t he? If Sam gave them to him, didn’t he have those rights?

It made Dean’s head hurt. He didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to analyze Stark’s place in Sam’s life – again – or even come close to touching on his own insecurities. No way, nuh-uh. Not touching that one with a ten-foot pole. He’d rather face a nest of demons than _that_.

But…

He could at least accept, even a _little_ , that Stark was something to Sam, and Sam was something to him. And he cared about Sam. There was absolutely no denying that. For all his faults, he gave a damn about him, and how could Dean begrudge someone caring about Sam?

Sighing, Dean ran a hand over his face. Then he slowly pushed himself up out of his chair. Thinking of Stark reminded him of a promise he had to fulfill. One he probably should’ve taken care of already. He was pretty damn sure Sammy hadn’t done it yet. Likely the kid was going to be pretty pissed off, too, when he woke up and found out that Dean had called up Tony and told him what was going on. Not that it mattered. Dean had dealt with Sam’s temper before and he’d deal with it again. If it meant making Sam even the smallest bit happy right now, amidst all the bullshit their lives were made up of, he’d deal with Princess Samantha’s tantrums.

“Sorry, Sammy,” Dean murmured as he pushed up to his feet. If Sam wasn’t going to make the call, that meant it was up to Dean to do it.

As he limped his way down the hall, he tried not to think about when their lives had gotten so messed up he had to call in someone else for his brother to talk to, instead of being the person that other people called.


End file.
